


The Morning After The Christmas Party

by BiancaIcaras



Series: Trainers [3]
Category: John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-16 21:20:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5841391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiancaIcaras/pseuds/BiancaIcaras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drunk, the morning after ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After The Christmas Party

The Manager eventually went home after the party, grinning like a loon. He had not only made friends with Padfoot, but somehow gained a boyfriend. They had broken apart after about a year, or something that felt like a year, deciding to call it a night and meet up again tomorrow afternoon. He had almost skipped home after collecting his coat, giddy from the kiss and the alcohol still in his system. Luckily he lived near the station, so he was home in no time whatsoever. Chucking his bag and coat on the chair, he flopped onto the sofa. “I should go and get into bed.” he murmered to the empty room. Unfortunately, he was too tired to even open his eyes let alone go and get into bed. 

The next morning, the Manager wished he had actually gotten into bed. Sore and with a very dry throat, he woke from the sunlight coming through the living room window. Moaning from the harsh light, right in his face, he sat up and instantly regretted it. He felt sick. Blinking against the light, he got up slowly to go to the bathroom. Once he stood, all his soreness was forgotten and he sprinted towards the loo; he was going to throw up any second now. Almost kicking in the door, he flipped the toilet seat up with a bang and puked what felt like everything he ever ate out. After a few rounds of throwing up and sitting still while the world turned around him, all he was doing was dry heaving, still having the need to purge his body of all the alcohol he’d ingested the night before. Finally the need disappeared and he sat up slowly. Minutes passed, after which he got up from the floor and walk, very slowly, to his little kitchenette. Thanking his previous self for doing the dishes a few days ago, he grabbed a tall glass and turned on the tap. He gulped down half the glass in one go, happy to get the taste of bile out of his mouth. Then he went to get some painkillers from one of the drawers, pushing 2 paracetemol tablets out of the strip. He put them in his mouth and slowly drank the rest of the glass, setting it down on the counter again. “Why did I think this was a good idea again?” he asked himself out loud. He turned around and leaned against the counter, closing his eyes in agony. Just when he thought the world had stopped spinning enough for him to go and get changed, he heard his phone ringing faintly. 

It was still in his bag, the noise not that loud but enough to give him a new feeling of faintness. Staggering towards his bag, he dug out the offending thing just as it rang off. Blinking again to properly read the screen, he almost hit himself in the head when he saw the time and the number that had tried to reach him. It was 12.23. And he had told the Driver they’d meet up at noon. He not only overslept, but felt like death warmed up so there was no way he’d make anything of an good impression on the other man now. Sighing, he sat down on the sofa and hit redial. “Hello!” the Driver said cheerfully when he picked up after 2 rings. “Hi…” the Manager said weakly. “Ah.” the Driver answered, smile apparent in his voice. “I think I don’t really have to ask why you aren’t here. Had a bit too much last night?” The Manager could only groan a bit in response. “If it makes you feel any better, I have a tiny bit of a headache as well. We could always meet up another time?” the Driver asked, and the Manager shook his head, regretting it instantly. “No, it’s fine. I… just need a little while to get myself together a bit. I can text you my address and you can meet me here in an hour, then we can still go and do… whatever?”. The Driver chuckled softly at the tone of the Manager. He really did sound hungover. “All right. That sounds good. Can I bring you anything? Paracetemol maybe?” The Manager sighed. No chance of hiding his current state then. “No, I already had a few of those. But thanks for thinking of it. I’ll go and get sorted, see you in an hour?” he asked, hoping the Driver wasn’t too put off from hearing him in such a mess. “Good. Make sure you eat something as well. Dry toast always helps for me. See you in an hour or so.” the Driver said, who seemed still keen on meeting up with the Manager. ‘Well, that sounds like I haven’t completely scared him off’ he thought, humming at the phone in approval. “See you then.” They both hung up and the Manager sagged against the sofa. “Shower first, I’d say.” he told himself. A few minutes later he had the feeling he wouldn’t keel over when he got up again, so headed towards the stairs and his bedroom. Not taking too long to get some clothes together, he grabbed a towel and headed towards the shower. Making sure it was nice and hot, he got in quickly, letting out a happy sigh while the water washed away much of the real and imagined grime of the morning so far. The Manager washed himself, made sure he put on some nice smelling showergel, shaved and felt infinitely better a few minutes later. He stayed under the warm spray for a little while longer, finally getting out to get ready for the Driver. 

20 Minutes after the call with the Driver, the Manager was having some dry toast. Since he’d never been drunk before, all he had to go on was the Driver’s advice. While he waited for the toast he drank another glass of water. That went down fairly all right, but the toast didn’t help much. It made it worse. As soon as he had the second bite, it came back up to say hello. Not only to say hello, but to make it’s presence well known by coming up and waving at the fridge. He almost tripped over himself to get to the bathroom, where he once again threw up. So it went for the next 45 minutes, back and forth from the kitchen to the bathroom. When he was once again hugging the toiletbowl, the doorbell rung and the Manager dropped his head in defeat, moaning at his plight. He was feeling so sick, he totally forgot why the doorbell was ringing. So imagine his surprise when there was a soft knock at the bathroom door. “Hiya…” the Driver peeped his head around the door, stifling a laugh at the sight that greeted him. The Manager startled, which almost prompted another round of throwing up. “The key was still in the door, so I thought I’d just come in.” He jingled the keys while talking, which prompted The Manager to moan again, making the Driver really burst out a laugh. “You really are properly hungover, aren’t you? Didn’t the toast help?” he asked. The Manager shook his head. “It only made me feel worse…” he groaned from next to the bowl. The Driver started to properly feel bad for the Manager now, so decided to do something to help. “Come on, let’s get you up off the floor and sitting somewhere a bit more comfortable.” He put the keys in the bowl next to the door around the corner and crouched down to the Manager’s level. Grabbing the Manager by the waist, he pulled both of them up and almost dragged the Manager to the living room. Depositing the Manager softly onto the sofa, he looked around for a bucket or something and some blankets. The Driver sat still on the sofa, glad to not feel the need to puke again, blinking at the Manager. “You happen to have a bucket or something? Just in case you feel sick again, it would save you having to run off again.” The Driver weakly lifted a hand and pointed towards the kitchen. “Middle bottom cupboard.” The Manager nodded and went to get it. Meanwhile the Driver fell backwards again, feeling like a complete idiot. He’d made such a great first impression last night, and this would certainly ruin anything that might have happened between them. By the time he could think about how bad this must look and get lost in his misery, the Driver returned with a bucket and smiled at the look on the Manager’s face. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t feeling that great either this morning. It’ll pass, eventually. I’ll make you something to eat that should stay down a bit better. Can I get you some blankets or something so you don’t get too cold in the meantime?” he asked, making sure not to talk too loudly. The Manager nodded weakly, pointing at a cupboard in the corner of the room. “There should be some in there. And really, you don’t have to do that. I’ll take care of myself.” He sighed and put his head in his head, curled up in a corner of the sofa. “You must think I’m a complete idiot now.” The Driver sat down next to him, putting his arm around the Manager. “Neh. I already did.” He said, hoping to get the Manager out of his funk by teasing him a bit. The Manager huffed. “I’ll get you that blanket and we can watch a film or something while we wait for you to feel better. It’s not like I had any big plans for this afternoon.” The Driver said, glad the Manager seemed to take it as it was meant. He patted his shoulder and got up to get things sorted. 

What he found when he got back from the kitchen made him grin again. The Manager had somehow managed to make a cocoon around him with the blanket the Driver had got him before making lunch and was out like a light. “Thank goodness.” He said softly to himself, putting down the plates on the side table. When he’d gotten to the Manager’s house, he wasn’t quite sure he was at the right address. For one, the keys were still sticking out the door, seemingly left there for a minute while their owner went to get something from the car or something. But there was no car in sight, nor a bicycle. So he checked the address again on his phone, ringing the doorbell when he really did think he was at the right place. Hearing retching noises coming from the small bathroom window next to the front door, he thought it wise to go in and find out what was going on. In the least he could help someone who was quite obviously being sick. When he saw the narwal-shaped slippers sticking out from around the door, wrong way around, he knew he was in the right place. His new colleagues had already told him about how much the Manager loved narwals, and this proved it. Taking a chance, he knocked on the door, hoping he wouldn’t shock the Driver into something stupid with his unannounced arrival. He knew he’d had a lot to drink the night before, but it seemed like it had hit the Driver a lot harder than him. Feeling slightly guilty and certainly responsible (how could he have made the poor man get drunk for a stupid dare?), he’d made up his mind to ditch all the plans he’d had at the back of his mind and at least make the Manager feel a bit better. So here he was, softly pushing the sleeping man a bit to the side, so he could sit next to him and eat his lunch. Unfortunately the second he started pushing, the Manager woke up, peeking above the covers again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. But if you want, lunch is ready?” The Manager sat up, still blinking at the sight of the Driver standing next to him. “Let’s get you something to eat, and then we can just sit here together for a bit. Is that ok?” the Driver tried again. The Manager nodded. “Yeah. Thanks. I feel a bit better already. You mind handing me the plate?” he mumbled. “Sure.” The Manager said, retrieving it while the Manager freed his arms as well and moved to the side of the sofa. The Driver smiled and sat down with his food after handing the Manager his. They ate in silence for a while, both content with just sitting together. 

When they were both finished, the Driver took the plate from the Manager and put it away in the kitchen. He’d put the kettle on while he was making up the plates, putting the teapot that had a place of pride on the counter on its little warmer to let the tea simmer for a bit when the kettle had boiled. So now he could pour them both a cup of tea, taking them slowly with them back to the Manager. “Feeling better?” he asked. The Manager nodded and threw him a shy smile. “Sorry again about being in such a state. Not really a great first date, is it?” he said into the blanket, not meeting the Driver’s eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I was the one who got you drunk.” The Driver said, shrugging. “Although I didn’t think it would affect you this much. Maybe you had a cold or something already coming, and this made it worse?” he wondered out loud. The Manager blushed. “No, it wasn’t that. I… uhm… just never drank that much alcohol before. Or ever.” He said, burrowing even deeper into the little nest they’d made. The Driver looked over at him, shocked at what the Manager seemed to imply. “You haven’t drunk that much. Or any alcohol. Ever.” He wished he could be swallowed up by the ground, then and there. “Oh my god, I’m SOO sorry! I can’t believe I made you do that!” He didn’t get very much more of a chance to be embarrassed. The Manager had almost jumped up at his words, eager to ease his guilt. “No, don’t blame yourself! I was just being an idiot. I felt like such a clot to have to say that I didn’t drink, thinking you must think I was very boring, so I brought it onto myself.” He said, putting his hands on the Driver’s. “And to be honest, I was afraid you’d laugh at me.” The Driver looked back up at him at that statement. “I would never laugh at you for something like that. NEVER.” He said, eyes never leaving the Manager’s. The Manager nodded, and then snorted, breaking the tense moment. “Look at us. Both idiots, aren’t we?” The Driver laughed. “Both trying to impress each other.” He smiled. “Well, tell me something then. Did you want to kiss me before getting drunk? Because I wanted to kiss you.” The Manager grinned. “Yes, I did. Very much so. Just like I want to now.” They moved closer to each other, almost kissing, both closing their eyes, when the Manager bolted from the sofa and into the bathroom once more, being even more violently sick. The Driver sat for a moment, dumbstruck about what had just happened. Then he heard the Manager losing the rest of his lunch and sighed. “So much for a romantic moment.” He said to himself and got up to see if he could help the Manager in any way. 

That’s how they ended up on the sofa together once more, about an hour later. Thankfully the Manager had kept in some of his food, so he had something as a bottom for the next dose of painkillers the Driver gave him once he was done retching. He put him back onto the sofa after that, slowly letting him sip at some water and tepid tea. He lets the Manager pick out the film to watch, which turns out to be some sappy romantic film before he has the guts to say what he really wants to see. So that’s how they spend their first real date together watching Thomas the Tank engine dvd’s, drinking tea and the Manager softly sleeping in between. That’s when the Driver really knows he might really start to fall in love with the Manager; when he’s snoring against his side, light fading behind them and him stroking the Manager’s hair while he sleeps and recovers from their first encounter the night before. Yes, he is really liking his new job so far a LOT.


End file.
